


A Chuckles & Curly Comic-Con

by coldturkey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Cullen does not trust electricity, Gen, Humor, POV Multiple, Silly, Solas & Cullen crash land into a giant nerd convention, Thedas Characters end up on Earth, When the Stars Align and Venus is in Retrograde, Will Update at a Glacial Pace, no betas here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldturkey/pseuds/coldturkey
Summary: Solas and Cullen Rutherford suddenly find themselves pulled from Thedas and dropped unceremoniously into an enormous convention during a highly unusual thunderstorm. When one of the attendees notices that Solas's ears look just a touchtooreal, she learns the truth and takes it upon herself to help get them back to their world before the convention ends.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 15





	A Chuckles & Curly Comic-Con

###### Solas

There was a thundering crash and the uncomfortable sensation of being smothered as Solas’s consciousness begin to fade. His mind struggled against the surrender of oblivion as the oppressive emptiness of the void pressed in around him. It was not the first place he had found his way into a space he did not belong, so when the complete absence of all things was suddenly replaced by darkness it caught him by surprise.

Reality crashed down around him as the ground rushed up to meet his feet and with it a cacophony of sensation. Solas’s knees buckled, crashing into polished and unyielding stone. Were he not momentarily in a state of shock, he would have cried out in pain, but the mere notion of adding to the horrible noise was more than he could bear. The unfamiliar magic rang loudly in his ears, its song was discordant and wild—a high pitched and unending scream that pressed in on him from all directions. The air was alive with waves and vibration, all distinct in their own song of chaos. He pressed his hands over his ears, trying to will the sound to stop, but the magic did not respond to his call.

Exiting the void, no matter the duration of time spent, was always unpleasant. To suddenly be ripped from the absence of all things to the presence of everything was jarring by default, and to have so quickly moved from the Waking to nothingness and back had left him feeling weak and nauseas. Trembling, he gripped his staff more tightly in hand and used it to aid him to his feet.

The world was still dark. He heard a scream, a shriek, and stilled, only for the air to be filled with the clack and rumble of thunder so powerful he could feel it reverberate through him.

The air was suddenly alive with the hush and hum of murmurs, and Solas could feel the heat and presence of bodies, the smell of sweat and human musk, and his confusion grew. As his vision swam into focus, he realized that it truly was dark in whatever new environment he had landed, and several of the humans surrounding him had pulled out strange, glowing slates.

But before Solas was given the opportunity to investigate further the space flickered into brightness. Solas winced, the sudden flood of light unexpected, before his mouth fell open in shock.

The polished floor stretched out before him, opening into an atrium fenced with polished metal. Massive panes of glass stretched up, and the architectural wonder of it all was reminiscent of the beauty Solas had long believed lost with the fall of Arlathan.

But, even more baffling, were those that inhabited this strange place. It was as if peoples from many times and lands had united, their outfit of dress clashed from one to the other in ways he struggled to comprehend. All with rich colors and strange paints, armors unlike anything he had ever seen.

“It wasn’t me!” Announced a woman with black skin and pure white hair. Her form fitting uniform was emblazoned with a large cross. As her voice carried over the nearby crowd several of the strangely dressed people laughed. _Is she referring to the overhead storm? That thunder?_ Were it a display of magic responsible for the storm whoever wielded it was potentially powerful enough to rival that of the Evanuris.

“Of course not,” A young man with black hair said, weaving between the crowd to dash out in front of the woman. “It was me!”

There was a pause, a momentary hush among those gathered nearby, then someone shouted, “Carlos!”

The crowd broke into louder laughter, and there was even a smattering of applause. The black-haired man in the hooded blue tunic and red trousers grinned. _Is this all some sort of performance? The posturing of nobles in court?_

Solas was extremely confused.

“Oh, wow dude. Nice outfit!” A man’s voice spoke up nearby, and Solas turned to see a pair of human court jesters looking directly at him. Judging from the way the man with green hair had his arms the female, who wore an outfit that left very little to the imagination, they were a couple.

With growing unease, Solas gripped his staff more tightly and managed a polite smile, “Thank you.”

“Mind if we get a pic?” The female jester asked, pulling a strange rectangular piece of metal from her bag and holding it up inquiringly. “I’m a huge Bioware fan. I’ve played like all the games.”

It was clear that he was supposed to have some understanding of whatever “game” the woman was discussing. He eyed the object cautiously, but neither of the humans appeared to mean him any harm. Their conversation had already proven useful, and while he had no idea what a “pic” was it seemed unwise to refuse.

“I have no objection.” Solas said, with the smallest incline of his head.

The woman held the flat rectangle up, and when she did, others passing paused and did the same. Some of the magical slates flashed, but others did not. Solas had not expected the request for a “pic” to be taken as an open invitation by passerbys and his heartrate quickened. Solas realized with horror that while he could hear the magic of these devices, he could not reach out to any of them. Nor could he touch the Fade.

The female jester looked at the device, a smile spreading further across her face. “I think I saw a pretty good Lavellan over that way.” She pointed, and Solas blinked. _The Inquisitor is here as well?_ “Thanks, -er, oh wait, I know this one! _Ma serannas Solas!”_

Solas stared, almost too shocked by the strange human’s knowledge of both his name and the Elvhen language of to respond. “ _Emma neral._ ” He managed, inclining his head gracefully despite his growing concern. Whatever games were currently being played in Lord Bioware’s court, it was clear that Solas would need to learn the rules very quickly. They gave him a wave, to which he could only force the smallest of tight smiles in return, before turning to head in the direction the strange, Orlesian-esque jesters had indicated. If this were some form of trap he had little recourse but to walk into it.

He hardly made it ten steps before another Human addressed him, also asking for ‘pic’ as they repeated the previous couple’s gesture of holding up their thin, metal device. Solas hesitated, uncertain of whatever consequences he may unwittingly incur for denying one of these devices in this Lord Bioware’s court, but others did not even ask. “I am sorry, perhaps another time.”

Solas kept his tone even, hoping to impress that he meant no offense and respected the game. The human, however, looked annoyed and flashed him with the box anyways. Solas’s eyes narrowed at the man, but there wasn’t time to deal with such things. He needed to find Lavellan.

Walking with purpose seemed to help keep others at bay and he dropped the guise of humble apostate, but progress still proved difficult. There were so many people, the crowd so thick, it was as if the ocean of human bodies pressed closely together would never end. And try as he might, not even his Elvhen grace permitted him to move expediently without bumping and brushing against others.

When another elf suddenly backed out into his path and he collided into them, Solas immediately began to apologize. “ _Ir abelas_ ,” He began, only to stop dead when they turned around. It wasn’t an elf he’d walked into. It was _him_. Or, well, someone imitating him. Solas stared down at the woman _,_ at a loss for words.

“Hey, watch I-“ She stopped, looking Solas up and down before a wry grin curled up her face. “My, my… Dread Wolf take me.” She purred, her intentions and desires abundantly clear.

Solas’s eyes widened, and he fled. Horrified.

“Hey, wait! At least let me get your Instagram!” She called after him, trying to wrestle through the mass of bodies to make chase. “Do you have a tumblr? An OnlyFans!?”

He had no idea what an “Instagram” was, and he no longer cared. This had to be a nightmare – some illusion created by an exceptionally powerful spirit of the fade. It was an exceedingly uncommon occurrence, but there were still a handful of spirits and demons capable of creating traps flawless enough to fool even him for a time.

Then he saw her, the top of her mousy hair bobbing through the sea of strange outfits and creatures. It was her—it had to be. He was sure of it.

“Inquisitor!” He called out, all-but pushing a particularly large man aside that smelled eerily like a druffalo. When she didn’t turn he called out again, panic beginning to clench his chest as he resorted to using his staff to carve a path through the undulating mass of bodies.

Once close enough, he reached out a hand - grabbing her firmly by the arm and spinning her around. “Inquisitor, I am relieved to have found you.” Solas began, speaking quickly and quietly. “Whatever the nature of this place-” He stopped. _What? But how?_ He didn’t bother to finish the sentence. It wasn’t her.

The woman had jumped when he grabbed her, large green eyes snapping up at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. Solas froze, his heart sinking. Whatever the rules or purposes of the games being played in Lord Bioware’s court, he knew he had just made a grievous error.

From the back, her resemblance to the real Inquisitor was uncanny, but now that he was up close and looking at her properly the differences were obvious. Not only did this woman wear the wrong _vallaslin,_ but the dark, blue-green lines were little more than paint. He was a fool.

This false Inquisitor regarded him warily. She spoke quietly, glancing in the direction of a few people who had pulled out the enchanted rectangles everyone in this place seemed to cling to. “I think you have the wrong Lavellan.”

Solas paled. He was still unsure as to the purpose of the magical devices and the consequences that could result from having so many people using it to take his “pic.” Letting go of her quickly, fear and frustration now threatening his composure as he turned and hurried away.

###### Brook

Brook stared at the retreating figure, not entirely sure what the fuck had just happened. It had been, by far, the best cosplay she had ever seen. It was almost too good. Either that man had spent a small fortune on plastic surgery, or he was the person the character had been modelled after. It was the only explanation.

Even his mannerisms seemed perfect. She knew some people took their cosplays too seriously, but this guy had taken it to a whole new level—he’d even gone so far as to sneak a staff into the con that should have never made it past security. Somebody could poke an eye out on that thing!

Obviously it wasn’t the _actual_ Solas. He was a fictional video game character. That would be ridiculous. Fictional characters didn’t actually show up in real life. An actual Elvhen god of rebellion couldn’t just show up to fucking Comic-con. That would be insane. She was insane for even considering the idea of considering that it was an idea to be considered!

There was no way. _Those ears didn’t look like prosthetics._ He had also looked scared. Actually scared. If there was even the slightest chance, and it really was Solas, and Brook ignored it, there could be serious problems. _People could end up dead._

It was a very good reason to stay as far as fuck away from the obviously crazy man.

Brook cursed herself and walked quickly after him, as she had clearly lost her mind. There was no way. It was simply a very, _very_ convincing cosplay. The person was probably a professional costume or make-up artist for television shows and movies. It couldn’t actually be Solas. She was just going to check, to confirm. Maybe she could get a business card. And if it really was somehow Solas—which was impossible—then she could give him a good slap across the face for breaking her Lavellan’s heart! They had loved each other, it was real, and that _asshole_ just threw it all away to go commit mass genocide! That deserved a good slapping!

It took several minutes of her wandering around some of the less crowded hallways on the second floor, but she eventually found him with his back against the wall in an alcove near the bathrooms. His expression was guarded and his eyes were narrowed and watchful. He was gripping his staff so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

Heartrate quickening, she approached him slowly. Considering he could be a legitimately unhinged super-fan, and Brook was dressed up as Lavellan—a Lavellan he’d confused for someone else—it was potentially the stupidest thing she had ever done.

When she started to get closer he took notice, and the cold sharpness of his gaze alone was enough to give anyone second thoughts. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Brook gave him a friendly smile that he did not return. But he didn’t move away, or move at all really, as she got closer and she decided to take that as a good sign.

Brook slowly, ever so slowly, leaned up against the wall next to him, and found herself in a losing battle against not staring at his ears. They still didn’t look like prosthetics. Brook swallowed.

Before she could think up a reasonable question to ask, a young woman asked to take a picture, and she noticed the way his eyes flicked to the asker’s smart phone. Brook was starting to worry that she really had lost her mind. When the Impossible Solas didn’t say anything immediately, she stepped in.

“Of course!” Brook said, giving the woman a smile and sidling up closer to the person who she was starting to think might actually be a mother fucking ancient elf. She turned to angle towards Solas, then added, speaking out of the corner of her mouth while she did her best impression of innocent and crushing on Senpai. “Stop glowering and look down at me like I make you nervous.”

Impossible Solas hesitated but ultimately did as she asked. Considering Brook was pretty sure everything about her and this situation already had him nervous, he didn’t have to do much beyond drop the glower and look at her.

There was a pause, then a moment later the random woman gave them both a “Thanks!” and went on her merry way.

Brook watched the woman go, only to turn back and find Solas eyeing her uncertainly. Still. Not entirely sure how to approach the situation, she licked her lips and gave him a nervous smile. “So… uh, those are real, aren’t they?” She’d caught herself eyeing them, again.

“I am not sure I follow your meaning.” He replied carefully.

She grimaced apologetically. “Uh, right. Okay, so assuming for one second that I haven’t gone mad—” without thinking she gave him a tentative poke, despite knowing perfectly well that he was, in fact, there. “You’re uh, you’re Solas, right?”

The man was not looking at her kindly, and then one of his ears twitched. Brook pinched herself. It hurt. That just happened. This was actually happening. The man – make that elf – who was actually Solas gave the slightest inclination of his head, moving his staff closer to his person, “I am.”

Brook glanced at the staff, then her eyes widened. If this was the real Solas, then that was a real staff, which meant it was a real weapon. Which meant it had a blade that fucking _killed_ people on the inside. She looked back up at Solas and swallowed. This was not nearly as fun as she’d hoped, and it was proving far more intimidating than she’d expected. She needed to get him out of here.

“Hooo-boy… Okay, come with me.” She said, and when he didn’t move she hesitated, only to see the security personnel making rounds headed in their direction. “Shit. Look, I’ll explain whatever you want but right now we need to get you and that staff out of sight!”

She grabbed his wrist and gave him an urgent tug, relieved when he followed. Walking quickly, Brook made a beeline for the family bathroom and shoved him inside before following after him. It was only once the door was firmly locked, and she had her back to it, that Brook remembered to breathe.

When her attention refocused on Solas, it might have been the fluorescent lighting, but he wasn’t looking too hot. For someone who was supposed to have seen almost everything his world had to offer, and accustomed to the permeating magic of ancient Arlathan, he was eyeing her and the automatic lights with far too much trepidation.

Brook slowly raised her hands in a gesture of placation, hoping it would further reinforce the idea that she didn’t mean him any arm. “I want to help, and I’m not your enemy. But if this is happening I need to know if anyone else came with you before they get into trouble.”

“I… have not seen any others since arriving in this place.” Solas replied.

Brook could already see the loophole in his reply, but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. Yet. “First things first, weapons aren’t allowed here.” She indicated the staff, “That’s why I needed to get you out of the hallway. Security was coming, and you can’t afford to get caught. Same goes for anyone else who might have come with you—if it’s even slightly possible that you didn’t show up alone, whoever else is here could end up in serious trouble and out of reach. If they get caught I can’t do anything.”

Solas considered her, his expression still guarded. “It… is a possible that I did not arrive to this place alone, however I cannot say for certain.”

That was not the sort of answer she wanted to hear. It meant that there _could_ be others. “Do you know how you got here?” Brook asked, trying a different tactic. She needed to gain enough of his trust if she was ever going to get him safely back to Thedas in one piece.

Solas did not answer her question, instead asking one of his own. “How is it you know who I am?”

 _Ah shit._ Brook licked her lips, “If I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Am I then to assume your offer of explanation used to lead me to this—” He paused, looking around with a frown, “—water closet was insincere?”

“No, I meant what I said. It’s just… I need to know you’ll remain calm. Because, uh, there’s parts of this you aren’t going to like.” Brook clarified.

Understandably, he didn’t seem to like that one bit. There was a pause, and his lips thinned, before Solas inclined his head. “Very well. I give you my word.”

Brook let out a heavy exhale. “Okay, so, this is a sort of… festival. A multi-day gathering where people come together to celebrate the characters of their favorite stories. Often times those in attendance will dress up and act out the characters they’re most fond of.”

Solas’s brow furrowed, and Brook watched him nervously as he took in her appearance in a new light. “…and this is why you appear similar to the Inquisitor.”

She nodded.

“What do you mean by stories? For what purpose do you watch the events of other worlds?”

“We don’t,” Brook said awkwardly, “Nobody here realizes that, uh, your world exists. These stories are all ones our people have come up with and created. If people here became aware that you exist, or realized there was proof of other worlds—It would be bad. Very bad. And dangerous for you, even with magic. We, uh, we need to figure out how to get you back where you belong.”

“You claim to be gods?” Solas raised an eyebrow, a certain edge entering his voice.

“No!” Brook said quickly, “Definitely not! A lot of us don’t even believe in such a thing.”

She felt the telltale vibration of an incoming text message in her back pocket, and cursed under her breath before pulling out her phone.

> Kelly: _Where r u? Thot u wanted in on this panel. Where’re my fries?_

Brook looked at the time and frowned, she _had_ wanted to, but right now her life had taken a turn for the impossible, and the presence of friggin’ Solas sort of demanded her attention.

> Brook: _Something came up. :( Don’t save me a seat._
> 
> Kelly: _WTF?? What happened?! Omg._
> 
> Brook: _Will fill u in later_

Brook stuffed her phone back into her pocket, ignoring it when it continued to vibrate, and looked back up at Solas. “Okay, if I can get you to my hotel room we can figure out a plan from there. Hopefully if anyone else showed up we can find them before the, uh, guards do.”

Unsure of how much longer she’d be able to hide him in the bathroom without someone pounding on the door, Brook pulled out the tag and zip ties she had for her false daggers and started working to remove one of them.

“If the situation is as dire as you say, would it not be more prudent to seek out the audience of Lord Bioware? Surely he must have some knowledge of the potential magics responsible?”

Brook nearly dropped the dagger. “Things don’t work like that here. This isn’t a noble court, and Bioware is just the name of the… institution responsible for sharing the story of your world.” Her fingers weren’t working well for the task, and she gave up and used her teeth before taking a step towards Solas.

Who took a step back. _Shit._ She should have known better, in the game version he was practically allergic to trust. “Look, Solas, there are a lot of people here that would not react kindly to discovering you’re here. In fact I’m fairly certain that a not-insignificant portion of the female population here would immediately seek to kick the shit out of you so I’m going to need you to at least pretend to trust me if you want me to try and get you out of here in one piece.”

Solas still didn’t look convinced, but at least this time he held his ground when she tried to approach him a second time. Nor did he try to stop her when she looped the weapons tag around his staff.

“You specify the female population, why?”

Brook looked up at him, and he really was too tall. “Uh… I’m not sure I should answer that. The reality of your world and the game I’m familiar with might not have much in common. The story we can see has multiple variations. There is more than one path.” She paused, pulling off her backpack to grab a spare lanyard and holding out the one with the actual badge to Solas. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Why?” Solas asked warily, accepting the badge and putting it around his neck.

She fished around for something that might pass as a badge-shaped, and clipped it to the empty lanyard. “Because, you’re wearing—.” She stopped, “What year was it last, where you were?”

“9:42 Dragon, _why_?” Then the breach had already happened, almost certainly.

“I’m trying to place when you’re from in the timeline.” Brook heading back to the door, putting her hand on the handle and looking him over. “I’d say to smile more, like you’re enjoying yourself here, but that might just end up looking creepy.”

Solas continued to very much not smile.

“When we head out of here, are you going to stick close and do what I say?”

“Do I have any alternative?” He was starting to get snippy. It wasn’t a good sign.

Brook frowned, “Yes, but there aren’t better ones. At least not from where I’m standing.”

“Then yes.”

It was a small miracle that she hadn’t been set on fire, or that nothing had exploded. At least Solas was capable of being somewhat rational when it didn’t involve terrible, world-shattering consequences.

“Okay, uh, whatever you do, do _not_ use magic.”

Solas grimaced, “While I am able to hear the magic here, I have been unable to call to it or draw from the Fade.”

Brook had suspected that might be the case, considering Earth didn’t have any wizards, but she hadn’t expected Solas to admit it. He was actually putting his trust in her—at least some degree of it—and she would do her best not to betray that.

“Ir’abelas, Solas.” Brook offered, hoping that he appreciated the gesture more than found offense in the words coming from her horrible shemlen tongue. “Wait, what do you mean you can ‘hear the magic’ here?”

“The magic tablet in your pocket, the ones that emit light.” Solas said, his brow furrowing.

Her eyes widened, brows rising. “You can hear that?”

There was no way Solas could understand why she found that so insane, but he didn’t need to know that. Solas nodded.

“I can’t imagine that’s very comfortable. In a place like this there’s a lot of it flying around.”

“It is… bearable.”

Brook nodded, putting her hand on the door to unlock it and taking a deep breath, “You ready?”

Solas nodded.

###### Curly

Cullen couldn’t help but grip the handle of his sword as his heart pounded violently in his chest. One moment he had been in the war room, updating the inner circle on the Inquisition’s current military strength, and the next he was surrounded by a sea of people huddled in darkness as the sky itself seemed to split in two.

For one, terrifying moment he had nearly drawn his weapon one of them when the space flooded with magical light had the sight of a child not stilled his hand. The air pressed in around him, thick and hot like a Ferelden summer, and he spun around looking for something—anything—familiar.

“Excuse me, Sir, I’m going to need to see your badge.”

Cullen turned to look distractedly towards the woman, his eyes roving over her uniform without really seeing it. Panic began to claw its way into his chest as he continued to look around, the woman still talking to him as he silently cursed himself for stopping his lyrium use. Now he was trapped here, in some strange keep, at the mercy of mages.

“Sir, if you don’t have a badge you can’t be in here and I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Sir, are you listening to me?”

The woman reached out and grabbed Cullen’s forearm, and he reacted on instinct as he wrenched his arm from her grip and drew his sword. He would not allow himself to be taken again. _Never_ again. He would sooner die than relive the nightmare of Kinloch Hold.

He took several steps back, drawing his sword. “Stay back!” She shouted at the woman, whose eyes had gone wide. He could hear those sounds of whispers and someone yelled. The sea of bodies parting with gasps. “Don’t get any closer.”

The woman’s hand had gone to her waist, the magic box clicking as she began to speak to it and move away from him. “We’ve got a code silver situation over in lobby B. There’s a man here armed with a sword and wearing some kind of plate armor. He seems pretty out of it and looks like he might be on something.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are adored.  
> Questions and criticisms are welcomed.


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